


Bare Witness

by cmonlauraweremarriednow



Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M, Smut, Voyeurism, gettin spooky with it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-24
Updated: 2018-06-24
Packaged: 2019-05-27 22:10:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15034388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cmonlauraweremarriednow/pseuds/cmonlauraweremarriednow
Summary: Mulder and Scully get spooky in the basement during Sleepless, but they're not alone.





	Bare Witness

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for the Unsexy Files portion of xfpornbattle, in which each writer was tasked with writing a sexy story for their assigned unsexy episode using an xfpornbattle prompt (in this case, voyeurism).
> 
> Set between the final two scenes of the episode, Sleepless

_FBI Headquarters_

_Washington, DC_

He observes the figures at the other end of the hall, file boxes obscuring his presence, two stolen reports tucked in his jacket. He knows it’s wrong; he knows he shouldn’t be watching. But he can’t look away. The sallow basement lights cast flickering yellow shadows over their features, yet they remain captivatingly ethereal.

Mulder’s hair is mussed in its perpetual state of casual disarray. He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about running his hands through it, fisting his fingers in that fluffy duckling down. The black suit conceals the long planes of Mulder’s body, his characteristically garish tie trapping the curve of his neck beneath crisp white cotton.

His gaze shifts to the diminutive partner who had so dismissively declined his proffered hand when they’d met.

Scully’s eyes flit between Mulder and the looming shadows of the corridor, her unwavering loyalty and dedication obvious even from afar. Her hair shifts softly around her face, a gleaming copper frame of her renaissance beauty. A prim cabled sweater beneath a terracotta jacket does nothing to distract him from the curves he knows lie beneath.

He is no stranger to the bullpen rumors of the Spookies’ close talking personal space violations, but witnessing it in person is something else entirely. It is intoxicating, magnetic, otherworldly, as if they float on their own plane of existence. They are two planets orbiting each other, each trapped in the other’s inescapable gravitational pull. Pieces of hushed conversation float back to him.

“…broke into my office…my files, my computer…the report was already gone.”

“Someone…stealing both our copies…”

The guilty weight of the folder seeps through the starch of his dress shirt and settles in his chest. Scully stares up at Mulder, her pink tinged lips forming shapes he cannot decipher.

“…closing down the X-Files…beginning…never been in greater danger.”

“…trust him?”

Mulder glances again down the hallway and sighs, fear and conflict marring his features, trapped in the furrow of his brow. He turns back to Scully and leans into the wall, his hand supporting his weight beside her head.

“I don’t know…” Mulder traces her fine jaw with the back of his other hand, achingly gentle, as if her porcelain visage might shatter before him. “But I trust you.”

Mulder’s hand continues its path and settles on her shoulder. His thumb rests against her pulse, a tangible reminder of her existence. Scully brushes the hair back from Mulder’s forehead, smoothing over his hairline as if examining him for invisible wounds. The tension in Mulder’s shoulders visibly lessens at the familiarity of her care.

“…admitting you miss me, Mulder?” She thumbs the scruff of his jawline, her lips curved in a teasing lilt.

Mulder closes his eyes and leans into her touch, turning his head to press a kiss to her palm.

“Yeah…guess I am…basement office…awful lonely…”

There’s something so intoxicating about witnessing a level of intimacy not meant for outside eyes. Something about the way they look at each other, the raw intensity of their gaze, a mix of longing adoration and animalistic fervor, like they might devour each other whole if given the chance. An hot flash of unexpected jealousy courses through him, roiling in the pit of his stomach, churning white-hot with something even more unexpected.

Arousal.

Scully sides her hand around to fist in the soft hair of Mulder’s nape and pulls his face down to hers. Their eyes close as their mouths meet, sliding against each other, softly at first, an aeonian reacquaintance with a long missed place. Tongues flick and battle and soothe, tracing shapes as a topographer maps the precise texture of a landscape.

He shifts to relieve some of the pressure of his tightening pants and finds his hand palming the crotch on its own accord. He wonders what Scully tastes like, wonders how the plush skin of Mulder’s bottom lip would feel between his own.

Scully suckles Mulder’s lip, pulling it into her mouth before sinking her teeth into it. She tugs on that obnoxious tie to draw her partner even closer.

His fingers twitch in jealousy at the slew of his own missed opportunities to wrap his hand around that silk.

Their mouths remain in sync as Scully’s hands fumble at the knot, stripping it from the pointed collar before pushing his suit jacket over his broad shoulders to an inky puddle on the floor and taking the shirt buttons to task. Mulder stills her eager hands and pulls at her coat, the growing impatience evident in his slacks, leaving the buttons abandoned with just four undone.

His hips thrust restlessly into his hand, increasing the heated friction of the fabric trapped between his cock and palm. He presses his lips together to silence the whimper of pleasure that threatens to leak from them.

Her legs quiver as Mulder’s hand disappears under the fabric of her skirt, the muscled sinew of his arm rippling as her head lolls back. Mulder leans to draw his open mouth across the newly exposed column of her neck and his tongue laves swirls along the pale skin. Her fingers clench in Mulder’s hair and rake streaks down his back, the white cloth bunching under her nails.

Scully gasps and the tenor of her rhapsodic moan echoes in his cock.

Scully’s moan pitches into a whine as Mulder withdraws his hand. Even in the dim flickering light, he can see the arousal shining on Mulder’s fingers as he brings them to her lips. Scully sucks them into her mouth and Mulder’s tongue follows.

His tongue flicks out to brush his own lips, certain that he can taste her.

They pull back just long enough for Scully to yank her sweater over her head, bearing the soft swell of her lace-encased bosom to Mulder’s eager mouth. Mulder kneels and peels the lace cup aside just enough to release a pert rosy nipple to taste.

He’d watched that mouth shuck sunflower seeds for days on end and his suspicions about the talents of Mulder’s tongue are confirmed as he watches Scully writhe under its strokes. He undoes his belt and thrusts his hand into his pants in a desperate bid to relieve the throbbing ache trapped inside. He squeezes his own cock, pulsing against his palm in time to his own racing heartbeat.

Mulder’s name tumbles a bit too loudly from Scully’s parted lips and he rises, sliding his pants down to his thighs along the way. She reaches for him and wraps her small hand around his girth. It’s Mulder’s turn to moan now as she circles his tip with her palm before smoothing the length of his shaft. His long cock gleams in the low light, his own slick catching in the ridges of flesh.

His hand smoothes over his own hot skin, thumbing the underside of his head on each upstroke and spreading his pre-cum on the way back down. The illicitness of his vantage point spurs him on. It’s wrong, so wrong. But fuck, it feels so good.

Mulder rucks Scully’s skirt up and hoists her against the wall in one fluid motion. She gives a squeak of surprise as her arms instinctively circle his neck. Her legs twine around Mulder’s waist, his erection bobbing just beneath her entrance. Keeping one arm securely around her partner’s neck, she grasps him again and trails his swollen head through her folds.

He bites his own lip to keep from moaning aloud and watches Mulder finally buck his hips and sink into what he can only imagine is hot wet heat. He clasps one hand over his mouth and the other around his weeping cock, timing his strokes to their thrusts.

Their audible sigh at the long awaited skin on skin contact is shotgun loud in the silence of the basement. Their spooky bond of unspoken communication takes over into a personal space violation of the highest order. Foreheads pressed together, they move as one being and she sheathes him over and over again.

He braces himself with one hand against the wall as he fights the urge to close his eyes against the sensations; he wants to keep watching them, wants to see their faces when they come, wants to witness them falling apart in each other’s arms. It is the sound of Mulder’s monotone growl that drags him to the brink.

“God…Scully…so close…”

Mulder traps his hand between their bodies, the catch in her breath signifying he has found exactly the right place. Her shuddering gasps echo off the tiled floor.

“Mulder…love you…”

Scully’s bitten lip confession and Mulder’s slack jawed oh of release are enough to send him over the edge, spurting over his hand and splashing against the file boxes. He muffles his cry in the shoulder of his jacket.

He know it’s wrong; he knows he shouldn’t be watching. But it won’t be his biggest betrayal.

-

“Reassigning them to other areas seems to have only strengthened their determination. Scully’s a problem. A much larger problem than you described.”

A stolen folder atop a conference table, a stubbed cigarette, a plan caught in a plume of smoke.

“Every problem has a solution.”

**Author's Note:**

> Comments make me the happiest clam in all the sea  
> You can also follow me on Tumblr [@realmofextremepossibility!](http://realmofextremepossibility.tumblr.com)


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